


Dorian Pavus Doesn't Vape

by alexposting, sluttysuperheroes



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, bianca is varric's bong, cassandra plays rugby and is more powerful than everyone, dorian was assigned to be his roommate and now he lives in hell, i think you get the picture, shut up, solas vapes and does ketamine, what do you mean this game came out 6 years ago
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27037636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexposting/pseuds/alexposting, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sluttysuperheroes/pseuds/sluttysuperheroes
Summary: “He’s an Anthropology major.”Cassandra gave Dorian a blank look. “And?”“He’s anAnthropology major,” Dorian repeated.“And?”“Everyone knows Anthropology majors are the worst. Duh. And Solas is even worse than that; he also makes EDM music.”In which Solas is Dorian's assigned roommate; Cullen and Cassandra are the long-suffering RAs that have to listen to his weekly pleas for a new roommate.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 15
Kudos: 26





	1. Setting Events

**Author's Note:**

> *taps the dragon age fandom* is this thing on?

“He’s an Anthropology major.”

Cassandra gave Dorian a blank look. “And?”

“He’s an _Anthropology major_ ,” Dorian repeated.

“ _And?_ ” 

After only 2 weeks on campus, Dorian was already well used to Cassandra’s look of ire and disdain. It was actually one of her qualities he found most charming. 

“Everyone knows Anthropology majors are the worst.” Dorian leaned against the sad, cedar desk that punctuated the end of Cassandra’s dorm room bed. “Duh. And Solas is even worse than that; he also makes EDM music.”

Cullen, who otherwise was pretending Dorian was not there, pulled out his headphones and chimed in from across the room. “It’s not EDM music. It’s just EDM. You wouldn’t say ‘electronic dance music _music_.’”

“Yes, thank you, Cullen,” Dorian snipped. “Nice to know someone’s a fan.” 

“I’d also like to point out--”

“I thought you weren’t getting involved.”

“--that you’re a Philosophy major. Not exactly known for being the most likeable bunch.” 

“I chose my major ironically. That makes it better.”

“That actually makes it worse,” Cassandra piped up. “Look, Dorian, I wish I could help you,” she said, though the sentiment seemed less than genuine, “but there’s no way to arrange for a dorm transfer right now. You’ll have to wait until the end of the term.”

“There’s got to be something--”

“I’m a Resident Advisor, Dorian, not a wizard--” their conversation was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

“Yes?” Cassandra answered.

A small, redheaded woman opened the door. “Um.”

Cassandra, apparently, recognized the look on her face. “Out with it, Lace.”

Lace winced slightly. “Blackwall’s passed out the in the bathroom again.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Cassandra let out an exasperated sigh and moved past Lace into the hall, disappearing around the corner, with Lace in tow. 

Dorian remained where he was, leaned against the desk, and turned his gaze toward Cullen. The two made eye contact and Dorian held it for a good few seconds, watching Cullen shift in his seat uncomfortably. He waited until Cullen reached for a sip of his sugar-free Gatorade to say: “We should do acid together sometime.”

Cullen spluttered, choking on his drink, and frantically moved to screw the lid back on, as his face flushed bright red -- similar to the color of the Gatorade he’d just spit all over himself, in fact. “I, um--” he cleared his throat, reaching for an old Papa John’s napkin to wipe his shirt with. “I’m-- I’m sober, actually.”

Dorian didn’t miss a beat. “How about dinner then?”

“Huh?”

“I’m asking you to go to dinner with me.”

“I-- oh.” The look of panic on his face made Dorian almost feel sorry for him. “Oh. Uh. Well, that’s very… very… That is to say, I’m flattered, but I’m, um, I’m not, uh. Not, uh--”

“Not gay?” Dorian filled in for him.

The look of relief on Cullen’s face was evident. “Exactly.”

“Pity. Well, no matter,” Dorian waved a hand, giving the man one last once-over. “I’m sure we’ll be friends anyway. Can I tell you something?”

The look of fear and panic returned. “Sure?”

“Green’s not really your color -- and I mean this in the nicest way possible -- but I’d go for something more… burgundy. Maybe even a navy blue.”

Cullen blinked. “This is our school color.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me. Well,” Dorian stood, pushing off from the desk, “you know where to find me. Ciao.” And with that, left the room. 

“Ciao?” he muttered to himself, as he walked back toward his dorm room, filled with self-loathing. 

“ _Ciao?_ ” 

* * *

Dorian was walking back to the dorm building, with an incredibly mediocre, salted-caramel latte in hand, which he’d purchased for $5.25 at the campus cafe. The trek back to the dorm felt more like a death march, as he was still somewhat put-out at being rejected by Cullen -- and at the outrageous price of this latte -- and he didn’t feel like listening to any of Solas’s mixtapes.

Before he had a chance to finish sulking, his train of thought was interrupted by someone yelling, “hey, bitch ass!”

Dorian answered to that about as well or better than his own name, so he turned to find the source of the voice. Unsurprisingly, what he saw was Sera, a freshman who lived a few rooms down from him, waving at him from out the window of a beat up Toyota Corolla.

Anything to delay going back to the dorm, Dorian walked toward her. “Yes?”

“We’re going to hot box Varric’s car.” Sera smirked at him, taking a pull from her Juul. “Want to join?” 

“Um.” Dorian glanced in the backseat of the ancient car and saw Varric, Sera’s roommate, loading the bowl of a gigantic bong. “Alright.”

He had nothing better to do, so he opened the door and was greeted by the pungent smell of cannabis and a littering of empty Taco Bell bags covering the seat. 

Varric gave him a wide grin and swatted the bags onto the floorboard with one motion. “Welcome aboard.”

Dorian let out a small sigh of disdain as he delicately took a seat on the stained, cloth seats, trying not to breathe in too deeply. 

Varric gestured to the bong, which was at least two feet tall. “Meet Bianca.” 

“Pleasure,” Dorian replied, cordially, giving Bianca a nod.

Varric gave him a jovial look and held the bong out to him. “Oh, hit this, will you? And lighten up.”

“Well.” Dorian gingerly took the piece from him, doing his best not to be offended. “If you insist.”

Sera promptly handed him a lighter. “And don’t be a little bitch about it, either.”

“Okay--” he took the lighter. “Jesus.” 

Dorian hit the bong, giving a few small coughs as he breathed out.

“Weak,” Sera commented, before he was even done exhaling, and reached over to take the bong from him.

Dorian looked between the two of them, incredulous. “Is this your way of hazing me?”

Varric smirked. “Obviously.” 

“Duh,” Sera said, breathing out a mouthful of smoke. She handed Bianca back to Varric, then began rifling through the garbage on the floorboard.

Varric hit the bong, contributing to the slight haze that was beginning to accumulate around them. Dorian found himself glad that the interior of the car was becoming hard to see as the decrepit state of the vehicle was only contributing to his low mood. 

The three were silent for a few moments, as Sera found what she had apparently been looking for -- a half-empty bag of Takis -- and immediately tossed a handful into her mouth. She offered the bag to Dorian, who politely refused. 

“No. Thank you.”

Sera shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“So, Dorian,” Varric spoke up, passing him the bong. “I have to ask: why are you slumming it in the dorms with us? Most of you rich kids just rent an apartment outside campus and drive your Lexus to class everyday.”

Dorian thought about that as he lit the bowl and took a hit. “Well--” he let out a slow exhale. “Guess I just wanted to have the, uh. Quintessential college experience.” He couched. “As it were.” 

Sera smiled at him, as he handed Bianca back to her. “I don’t like the way you talk.”

Dorian stared at her. “Okay…”

“Quintessential college experience, huh?” Varric leaned back against the window, as Dorian turned his attention back to him. 

“It seemed like a nice idea at the time, although I’m starting to regret it now.”

Varric grinned. “Things still aren’t going so well with Solas, I take it.”

A sour expression passed across Dorian’s face. “I guess that depends on your point of view. He invited me to do ketamine with him this weekend, so. That’s something.”

Sera snorted, coughing slightly. “That certainly is something.”

Varric nodded sagely, taking Bianca back from Sera. “Solas has good shit, if you can tolerate him.”

Dorian quirked a brow. “And you know this how?”

Sera giggled around a mouthful of Takis. “You know how. Varric will take free drugs from anyone.”

Varric shrugged. “It wasn’t as bad as you think.”

Dorian gave him a look.

“But it was still pretty bad,” Varric conceded. “And what’s worse is he almost always invites Blackwall and that dude is a real downer.”

Dorian’s brow furrowed. “I thought Solas didn’t like Blackwall.”

Varric snorted. “Technically, no one likes Blackwall, but he gets invited to most of the parties anyway.” He took a deep hit from the bong; by now the car was filled with a deep haze that made it difficult to make things out with any sort of clarity.

“I don’t mind Blackwall,” Sera chimed in. “He does a wicked keg stand and, if you just zone out whenever he’s speaking, he’s really not so bad.”

Dorian laughed, leaning against the headrest, trying his best to relax. “It seems he’s been giving Cassandra some problems.”

Varric passed Bianca over to Dorian, who held his hand up. “I think I’m alright for now. Thanks.”

Varric nodded. “Everyone gives Cassandra problems, because Cassandra has a problem with everyone,” he explained, handing Bianca back to Sera. 

Dorian’s head was swimming, ever so slightly, and at this point, he was more than impressed with Varric and Sera’s tolerance. 

“I like her,” Dorian mused. “Wish she’d help me get a different roommate, but I like her.”

Sera exhaled a large cloud of smoke, shaking her head as she did. “She’s got some serious control issues, that one. You have to wonder about a grad student who chooses to live in the undergrad dorms.”

Varric took the bong back. “It’s not _such_ a wonder. Cullen and Cassandra are inseparable; where one goes”--he made a sweeping gesture--“the other follows. Been that way as long as long as I’ve known ‘em.”

Dorian raised a brow. “How long _have_ you known them?”

“We went to the same high school, actually.”

“So, Cullen and Cassandra…” Dorian hesitated. “They’re…?”

“Fucking?” Sera filled in for him.

“Yeah, that.”

Varric snorted. “No, nothing like that. They might as well be family.”

“Huh.”

“Why?” Sera asked. “Got the hots for Cullen, do you?” 

Dorian shot her a puzzled look. “What?”

“Don’t worry,” Varric chuckled. “Pretty much everyone goes through that at some point. You’ll get over it.”

“Sure.” Dorian shrugged, picking a piece of lint off his sleeve and flicking it onto the seat. “A little unrequited pining is healthy, I think. Keeps a person humble.”

That earned another laugh from Varric. “How very homosexual of you.”

“Thank you, Varric.”

Sera kicked her feet up on the dashboard and craned her neck to talk to them in a way that hardly seemed comfortable. “Cullen was in a class I dropped -- Fundamentals of Behavior. Super boring class. Hated every second of it. Professor was hot, though.” She popped a Taki in her mouth. “Anyway, have to say I don’t get the hype.”

“About Cullen?” Dorian asked. 

She shrugged. “Seems like a wet blanket to me. Never laughs at any of my jokes.”

“He must be the devil then,” Varric deadpanned.

“Hey. I’m funny.” 

Varric offered the bong to Dorian again. “You sure you don’t want any more of this?”

“I’m alright, but thanks.” Dorian sat up, stretching as much as possible in the cramped car. “I should be getting back, actually. I have some homework to think about doing.”

“Right,” Varric nodded. “Wouldn’t want to keep you from your procrastination.”

“Certainly not.” Dorian opened the door and gave them both a slight smile. “Thanks for, uh. This.”

“Anytime,” Varric nodded.

Sera gave him a salute. “See ya.”

Dorian removed himself, very carefully, from the old Corolla and continued his death march back to the dorm building. To his immense disappointment, the first thing he saw on approach was Solas, standing outside the entrance of the dorm, vaping. 

He blew out a giant cloud of smoke as Dorian, filled with hate and dread, walked up to the doors.

“Greetings, Dorian,” he said.

Dorian detested the sound of his voice and the things he said with it. “Hey. Solas,” he forced himself to respond, taking leaden steps toward the man. 

“I was just enjoying the evening air.” Solas took another massive hit from his vape, filling the air around them with the nauseating smell of… blue raspberry? The scent was impossible to guess at. “It’s refreshing. Don’t you think?”

“Um--” Dorian’s voice came out much more high-pitched than intended, but whatever he might have said was cut short.

“SOLAS,” Cassandra’s voice boomed from at least 30 feet away. “PUT THAT SHIT AWAY. I DON’T WANT TO TELL YOU AGAIN.”

Solas scowled deeply and tossed the vape into his messenger bag. “I can’t believe this. You’d think with the amount of money I give to this school…” He huffed. “Whatever. Want to come with me to the smoking pavilion?”

“Oh,” Dorian drew out a long breath. “Love to. _Love_ to. Unfortunately, I’ve got quite a lot of homework to get done so I should, uh, get to that.” He nodded.

“Alright.” Solas shouldered his bag. “Catch you later.”

Dorian glared at his retreating figure, before heading into the building. 

Once in his room, he threw all his shit onto his bed and immediately fired up his laptop. He logged into his student portal and, without thinking twice, decided to drop his English Literature class. As a matter of fact, he’d taken a sudden interest in behavior science, so he went ahead and signed himself up to start the Fundamentals of Behavior course.

So what? A little harmless crush never hurt anyone. 

Dorian was very smart.


	2. Motivating Operations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen hesitated. He considered turning tail and walking in the opposite direction just to avoid the awkwardness, but he needed coffee. He may have given up cocaine, but he still needed an upper of _some_ kind. He was only human.
> 
> He let Dorian get a few paces ahead of him before awkwardly trudging after him, silently cursing himself for being so _fucking_ weird. Why was it so hard to walk and act like a normal human being?
> 
> ***
> 
> In which Dorian embarrasses himself, then embarrasses Cullen, then Cullen embarrasses himself, (which shouldn't surprise anyone) then they both get coffee. That's just what college is like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fellas, is it gay to take an 8am class so you can sit next to the guy you're simping for?
> 
> Intro to this chapter thanks to @alexposting my angst-ridden KING. xoxo gossip girl.

Early, too early, Cullen woke from a restless sleep in a cold sweat. It was not unusual for him. He felt a nagging guilt for agreeing to a room with Cassandra. She never claimed he woke her in these fits. In fact, she urged him to accept the push for a placement with her. It made him ashamed just thinking about it. Even with all her support, he was still...like this. He laid there for a few minutes, trying to grasp at why he returned here in the first place. No matter how hard he worked, he was back in this position every night. 

He sat up, looking over at his friend. She seemed to be so serenely asleep. Another pang of guilt. Pressing the back of his head against the wall behind him, he focused his eyes on Brad Pitt plastered across his Fight Club poster. Cassandra no doubt teased him for his nearly only choice of decor. It was old and ripped from the move. He related to the men - or the man - from the movie. The anger, the pain, the confusion, and the overall exhaustion. He remembered watching it the first time with his older sister, a thought that left him with a sense of longing. To be home again, though, meant disappointing more people. 

Looking at the barely visible face of a young Brad Pitt brought back a strange, yet familiar feeling from deep in his gut, though. He thought back to Dorian’s request from earlier. His face grew warm, which confused, nearly angered him further. _What is it with that man?_ Yet, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t shake it. The warm feeling in his gut remained as his mind kept wandering to the same place.

* * *

The lecture hall was fairly quiet as stragglers shuffled into their seats and groups of people chatted amongst themselves. The teaching assistant, Leliana, commanded a certain amount of respect from her students, so the hall began to quiet down almost immediately as she stood from her desk and moved toward the whiteboard.

Cullen picked up his pen and tapped it against the notebook in front of him, his full attention trained on Leliana. She was a long time friend of Cullen’s, but he knew that she wouldn’t cut him any slack when it came to coursework. And, even if she would, he would refuse. This was his second time trying to get a degree. He was determined to make it all the way through this time, and do it honestly. 

As such, he was more than prepared for class. He had a notebook, a binder, a pen, a pencil, two highlighters, and he’d already ordered every book off the recommended reading list. He was taking his coursework very seriously, whereas last time he’d done anything but. He thought it’d be a breeze, like high school always was for him. Then, everything spiraled out of control. Perhaps, more accurately, he spiraled out of control.

On the board, Leliana had written: _ESSENTIALISM vs. SELECTIONISM._

“Alright,” she addressed the class, at exactly 8am on the dot. “Let’s get started. Today we’re going to discuss an important concept in Behavior Science: Essentialism vs. Selectionism--”

It was at this moment that Dorian -- to Cullen’s great surprise -- walked into the lecture hall. Unsurprisingly, he looked like he’d just gotten out of bed and was carrying an iced coffee. Leliana fixed him with a cold stare that likely made everyone in the lecture hall cringe as Dorian sheepishly walked up the stairs to find a seat. 

Cullen’s anxiety became even more pronounced when Dorian walked up to the seat next to him and asked, “May I?”

He grumbled something that sounded vaguely like “sure”, hoping to God Dorian didn’t see the intense heat Cullen felt growing on his own face. He rushed to move his stuff out of the way so Dorian could sit. It didn’t matter much, since it didn’t appear Dorian had brought anything with him to class except for the iced coffee. 

“ _As I was saying,_ ” Leliana continued, still glaring daggers at Dorian, before finally looking to the rest of the class. “Essentialism vs. Selectionism.” She gestured to the board. “We won’t spend too much time on this topic, but I feel this is a very important framework for what we are going to discuss in this class. Understanding this concept of Selectionism will be crucial for navigating the way I want to approach our discussions, so I would encourage all of you to take notes.” Another pointed look at Dorian.

Dorian seemed unaffected and took a drink of his coffee. 

Cullen was, frankly, a little shocked by Dorian’s lack of anxiety about the situation and it must have shown on his face.

Dorian glanced over at him. “What?” he said quietly. “I have a good memory.” Cullen immediately turned his gaze back to the front, terrified of drawing more attention from Leliana. 

“Essentialism,” Leliana kept on, “refers to the idea that all of us, every individual, is born with a certain set of innate qualities” --she wrote _innate_ under the word _essentialism_ \--“that are woven into our essence. These qualities form an individual’s identity. They are immutable.” She wrote down _immutable,_ then continued.

“Selectionism, on the other hand, is the idea that the qualities of every individual are influenced by their environment” --she wrote _environment_ under _selectionism_ \-- “and by their learning history.” After writing down _history_ , she turned and faced the class. “In our last class, we discussed summary labels, words that we use to describe behaviors. A person who doesn’t hold the door open for you might be called ‘rude.’ A summary label. A person who doesn’t, um, turn in their homework might be considered ‘lazy.’ An essentialist point of view would suggest that this rudeness, this laziness, is an essential, intrinsic quality of that person. It’s… just how they are.

“When we look at things from a selectionist point of view, however, we are forced to look a little deeper,” she continued. “We must look at the conditions, at the person’s personal learning history that is influencing their behavior. Maybe the person who shut the door in your face was rushing to an important meeting. Maybe the student who never turns in homework is dealing with a death in the family, or… dealing with depression, or learned helplessness.”

Cullen was drawn in by Leliana’s words, rapidly taking notes, eager to digest anything and everything about this concept. He couldn’t quite say why, but he found himself immediately enraptured by this concept of selectionism. He felt encouraged that he was on the right path toward learning the sort of things he wanted to learn.

A quick glance toward Dorian proved that the man next to him did not share his feelings. Dorian’s arms were crossed across his chest and he was leaning back in his chair with a somewhat sour look on his face. 

Cullen was too busy taking notes to much care why and Leliana continued on with her lecture. 

“When we start to analyze behavior,” she said, pacing back and forth slowly in front of the whiteboard, “it is not enough to look only at the individual. It isn’t fair. We _must_ look at the conditions that the individual--and their behavior-- exists in.” 

She stopped, her full attention trained on the students now. “Behavior, I would remind you, is not in the self; it is in the environment. It doesn’t matter if someone is lazy.” She paused. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t help a person who is lazy. I can’t help a... bird who is aggressive. Those terms have no objective meaning, so I can have no idea how to treat that problem. But, if I can analyze the environment and discover the _cause_ of the so-called ‘aggressive’ behavior, then I can begin to change it. Then I can realize that the bird is not aggressive, he simply lacks enrichment, as an example. Am I making sense?”

Her words lingered in the air, as students nodded their heads and mumbled affirmations. Cullen was nodding enthusiastically, as he rushed to catch up with his notes. _‘Behavior is not in the self,’_ he wrote, _‘it’s in the environment.’_

He liked that. He didn’t understand entirely what it meant, but he hoped he would learn. 

(He did notice in his periphery, that Dorian was still scowling slightly at the lecturer, seemingly not sharing Cullen’s enthusiasm.)

As if she’d read his thoughts, Leliana said: “We will cover these concepts more in depth later in the class, but I want you all to understand what I mean when I say that we will exclusively look at things from a selectionist viewpoint in this class. I don’t want to put labels on behavior, like ‘rude,’ like ‘aggressive.’ I want us to objectively describe behavior. Ask yourself: what does the behavior _look_ like. Like, um--” she thought for a moment. “Like, ‘the cat swatted me once with its paw, enough to break skin, then ran away down the hall.’ That’s objective. I can picture what the behavior looks like, so I can start to understand what caused it. If you tell me, ‘the cat is aggressive,’ well.” She smiled slightly, as if telling a joke only she understood. “I’ll have no idea where to start. Do you understand?”

More nodding and mumbling ‘yes’ followed her question. It was an 8am class, so the students weren’t terribly lively, but it did seem Leliana’s words had a certain impact on everyone. Everyone that is, except Dorian.

Ignoring that, Cullen smiled, both from enjoyment of the lecture, and from pride. Leliana had always been a gifted speaker and he was glad to see his friend teaching something she was clearly so passionate about.

Leliana lectured more about summary labels and selectionism and Cullen, along with most of the rest of the class, hung on every word, trying to write down as much as he could. 

When the class was over, everyone sleepily filed out of the lecture hall. Cullen was vaguely aware that Dorian was walking behind him as they made their way out of the classroom. He waved to Leliana, who was talking to another student, before he stepped out of the room. 

“What did you think of the class?” Dorian asked him, nonchalantly, as the two fell in step with each other walking down the hall. 

Cullen swallowed, a smattering of anxiety starting to build in his stomach. “It was really interesting, I thought. I, um, I really like that kind of stuff, you know, about behavior and all that, so. You know.” He cleared his throat, realizing he didn’t know how to end his own sentence. “What-- what did you think of the class?”

Dorian shrugged. “Not really my cup of tea, if I’m being honest.”

Cullen glanced at him. “No?”

They pushed open the building doors and stepped out into the early morning light, squinting against the morning sun. 

“I guess I just don’t buy into all that…” Dorian waved a hand, looking about vaguely. “...selectionism stuff.”

Cullen nodded once, stiffly; he disagreed entirely. “Right. Well. I’ll see you at the dorm, I’m sure.”

Dorian nodded back. “I’m sure,” he said. “See you then.” Then, he turned and walked in the same direction that Cullen had planned on going. 

Cullen hesitated. He considered turning tail and walking in the opposite direction just to avoid the awkwardness. But, he needed coffee. He may have given up cocaine, but he still needed an upper of _some_ kind. He was only human.

He let Dorian get a few paces ahead of him before awkwardly trudging after him, silently cursing himself for being so _fucking_ weird. Why was it so hard to walk and act like a normal human being?

After a few steps, Dorian glanced over his shoulder, caught Cullen’s eye, and shot him a smirk. “You’re walking this way too?” He stopped, allowing Cullen to catch up to him.

Cullen smiled sheepishly. “Thought I’d grab a cup of coffee before my next class.”

Dorian nodded and continued walking. “Me too. Might as well walk together.”

“Right.” Cullen swallowed, once again feeling that peculiar anxiety flare in his chest as he fell back in step with Dorian. “I have to ask: why’d you sign up for this class anyway? I can’t imagine it's a requirement for a philosophy degree.”

“No. But, I do have to take a few elective science courses for my major.” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “This one seemed like the easiest.”

Cullen suspected that Dorian was lying, though he couldn’t begin to guess at the reason. As always, Dorian baffled him. 

And Dorian, if his constant smug look was anything to go on, seemed to enjoy being baffling. However, Cullen couldn’t see any harm in the lie, so he decided to let it go. 

“Do you still think so?” Cullen asked, walking up to the door of the coffee shop, with Dorian following. He opened the door and stepped through, then held it open for the other man. 

“I don’t know what to think,” Dorian groused. He stepped up to the counter and ordered an iced vanilla coffee, presumably his second of the day. Cullen followed him and ordered one hot coffee, black. 

Once they had their coffees, they both stepped outside and, once again, lingered in awkwardness. 

“Well.” Cullen said.

Dorian sipped his iced coffee.

“Guess I’ll see you in class on Thursday, then.”

Dorian snorted. “Unlikely. I’m probably going to drop the class as soon as I get back to the dorm.”

“Hmm.” Cullen watched him for a moment, which Dorian responded to by fixing him with a slightly sour look. 

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” He paused, searching for the right words, an ironic smile forming on his lips. “I mean, you’re dropping a class because it confronts your beliefs.”

“And?”

“Well… Isn’t confronting and challenging what you already believe to be true… one of the pillars of philosophy?”

“Mm.” Unbothered, Dorian took a sip of his coffee. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t listened to any of the lectures.”

Cullen wasn’t impressed, and fixed Dorian with a flat look that clearly said so. He thought back to the last time he and Dorian had spoken — when Dorian had caused him to spit red Gatorade all over himself. In particular, he recalled one thing Dorian had said.

“Can I tell you something?” Cullen asked.

“Sure.”

“This whole...” He gestured broadly toward Dorian. “...pretending-like-you-don’t-care-about-anything act? It’s not really a good look.”

Dorian opened his mouth, no doubt to fire off a witty quip, then shut it again, having apparently no retort to that. “Okay…” he said slowly, after a long pause. “Wig.”

Cullen blinked at him; he had no idea what the fuck that meant. “Wig?”

Dorian blinked back. “Yeah, you know. Wig. Like someone snatched your wig.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Yeah, like you’re wearing a–” He gestured to his head. “And someone…” He shut his mouth and shook his head. “You know what? It’s a gay thing.”

“Right.” Cullen still wasn’t impressed. “So see you in class on Thursday?” 

“Umm…”

“See you then.” Cullen turned and headed toward his next class, not waiting to hear his response. 

As he walked away, he felt… odd. Energized, maybe. He rarely spoke so boldly, but he’d felt compelled to. Dorian irritated the daylights out of him, but it wasn’t because he was arrogant, or obnoxious, or self absorbed. To be clear, he was all of those things, but that wasn’t the reason Cullen wanted to punch his smug face.

He wanted to punch Dorian’s smug face because he was smart and intuitive and incredibly bright. And, in Cullen’s mind, he wasted those talents just to save a little face with his stupid devil-may-care facade. 

Not that Cullen really ever thought about him -- except he did sometimes -- but he wanted Dorian to know that someone on this campus could see through his little one man show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it obvious i'm using this fic as an excuse to ramble about behavior science? get learned you fuckin nerds.
> 
> also y'all should go read @alexposting's DA fic. go read it it's sad and good


	3. Respondent Conditioning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Boo-yah!” Sera shouted, pointing a finger at Cullen.
> 
> Dorian made a face at her. “ _Boo-yah?_?”
> 
> Sera flipped him off and Dorian felt he had lost the plot entirely. These people were insane.
> 
> Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long exhale. 
> 
> ****
> 
> In which Dorian flirts with Cullen (and Cullen seems to like it), Varric and Sera haze Cullen, and Dorian continues to hate Solas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since my last update! I only have time to write little bits and pieces here and there, but I plan to continue updating. Here's a short little chapter for all my friends :) especially @alexposting xoxo luv u king

Dorian did show up for the next stupid behavior class. He liked to think it had less to do with Cullen’s rousing speech, or whatever, and more to do with Dorian’s massive gay crush on Cullen. (But, really, it had the most to do with the fact that Dorian had missed the cut off to drop the dumb class anyway.)

As with the last class, Dorian took the seat next to Cullen and his 70 highlighters. Shockingly, Dorian was on time. A few minutes early, even.

As Dorian sat, Cullen looked over to him and shot him a _confident grin_ , which seemed a bit out of place on the man who usually looked either scared or constipated. Still, Dorian’s heart stopped, but he returned a somewhat confused smile of his own. 

They had a few minutes until class started, so Cullen braved a sentence. “I took your advice,” he said, still grinning, and gestured to his shirt -- a maroon, cotton henley. Dorian was loath to admit, inwardly, that it was a good color and it looked great on him.

Unrelatedly, his mouth was feeling rather dry.

It then occurred to him that Cullen had just spoken and that he had no idea what the _fuck_ Cullen was talking about.

Dorian’s brow furrowed. “What?” 

“You told me I should try wearing burgundy.” He still maintained a confident smile and gave Dorian a nod. “I took your advice.”

“Oh.” Dorian’s voice came out a little hoarse. “I did.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to admit that he had completely forgotten he’d ever said that. “Well, it looks good.” 

He then gave Cullen a flirtatious smile of his own. “I do give great advice.”

So what? A little harmless flirting never killed anyone.

(He also didn’t have the heart to tell Cullen that his shirt was absolutely _not_ burgundy and was, in fact, more of a maroon. Burgundy would have looked better, but it was still an improvement from that awful green.) 

Cullen, for all of his not-gayness, _blushed_ and looked down at his notes, all of his confidence suddenly evaporating, as he stammered out a non-coherent sentence. “Yes, well, I-- You know, you really…”

He was saved from having to form a cohesive thought by Leliana standing and addressing the class as she started her lecture.

As before, Dorian leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and listened to the lecture without taking a single note, while Cullen scribbled furiously next to him, as if he were trying to copy a word-for-word transcription of the lecture. This time, Leliana was teaching them about motivating operations. 

“There are two kinds of motivating operations,” she explained, writing the term on the board. Underneath it she wrote down: abolishing vs. establishing. “You’ll remember we talked about reinforcers and punishers in the first class; reinforcers increase behavior, punishers decrease it. Our motivating operations change the value of our reinforcer. Establishing operations make it more valuable to the learner. Abolishing operations make it less valuable.”

Dorian’s interest was slightly piqued, but he made sure his face was still set into an unreadable semi-scowl, to really sell the fact that he did not want to be in this class.

“For example,” Leliana continued, “a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is going to sound a lot better to you than it normally would if you haven’t eaten in 12 hours. That’s an establishing operation. If you’ve just eaten an entire wagyu steak and a… slice of cheesecake, let’s say, that pb&j isn’t going to sound nearly as appetizing. That’s an abolishing operation. Establishing operations increase the value of a reinforcer; abolishing operations decrease its value.” She gave a tiny smile to the class. “Any questions on that?”

Cullen raised his hand. “How do you know if the value has increased or decreased?”

Dorian thought he got the gist of this whole idea, so he only half listened to Leliana’s answer and only half listened to the rest of the lecture.

He also didn’t spend any time thinking about Cullen taking his wardrobe advice, then giving him that smile as he showed off his shirt, then _blushing_ , for fuck sake, at Dorian’s flirting. 

Straight men were so fucking infuriating.

(Not that he was convinced at all that Cullen was straight.)

* * *

Later that evening, Dorian was in Varric and Sera’s room, hiding from Solas. He was leaning -- a classic Dorian move, really -- against Sera’s wardrobe, while Sera and Varric were in the bathroom, elbowing each other for space in front of the mirror. 

Varric and Sera were painted green.

Dorian’s favorite color.

The reason they were painted green was because of Sera’s “massive gay crush on Cassandra,” Varric had explained. 

Well, that was Sera’s reason. Varric’s reason was “for the hell of it” and “to embarrass Cassandra.”

In other words, Cassandra had a rugby match that evening. 

Yes, Cassandra, apparently, was the star player of the university’s rugby team -- which Dorian hadn’t even known existed prior to this moment -- because of course she was. And Sera, apparently, had a bit of a crush on Cassandra, because, well. Of course she did. She had a thing for rugby players. _Apparently._

Dorian was digesting a lot of information very quickly.

“So,” Sera asked from the bathroom, smearing green glitter across her already-painted face, “are you coming?”

“To the rugby match?” Dorian gave a laugh, finding the idea preposterous. “No, I don’t think so.”

Varric and Sera booed him, but their heckling was cut short by someone knocking on their door. 

Varric, shirtless, half-covered in green paint, opened the door to find Cullen standing there, once again wearing that hideous green. Dorian scoffed inwardly and maybe a little outwardly. 

“Oh.” Cullen was visibly nervous and clearly taken aback by Varric’s shirtlessness and/or greeness. “Um, hello.” Cullen scanned the room and his eyes locked with Dorian’s.

Dorian gave him a smirk and held eye contact for the split second that Cullen could stand it. Cullen’s face flushed, almost imperceptibly (but Dorian noticed) as he quickly brought his attention back to Varric.

“What’s up, Cullen?” 

Sera peaked out of the bathroom, fully painted as well. “Hey, bitch.”

Cullen frowned at her. “You guys are going to the rugby match tonight, I take it.”

“No,” both Varric and Sera deadpanned at the same time. 

“Funny.” Cullen gave an awkward sort of nod and smile, wringing his hands together. “Um, listen.”

“Yes, Cullen?”

Dorian had previously understood that Varric liked to push people’s buttons, but that point was really being driven home this evening. 

“I know you guys think it’s really funny and all, but, uh, if you guys could, stop, uh--” Cullen shot a look at Dorian and the muscles in his face visibly clenched. Clearly he hadn’t planned on Dorian being here. 

Dorian, being an incurable little shit, was now immensely curious about what was going on.

“Yes?” Varric pressed.

“If you guys could stop messing with my sh-- with my stuff in the, uh, the server,” Cullen bravely continued on, “that would be great. I’m just-- it’s just that I’m trying to do something nice for the dorm, you know, a way for everyone to, um, unwind and... destress... and you guys are making that, well--" he gave a tense frown "-- a little difficult.” 

“Lighten up, Cullen,” Varric responded, clapping the man on the shoulder. “We’re just having fun.”

“You blew up my house!” Cullen burst out, then composed himself and shot another anxious look toward Dorian. 

Dorian had no idea what the hell they were talking about. 

Sera, apparently sensing that, leaned over and loudly whispered to Dorian: “Cullen set up a Minecraft server for the dorm.”

And, really, that brought up more questions than it answered.

Varric crossed his arms over his chest. “Have you considered that blowing up your shit is how we de-stress?” he countered, evenly.

“Boo-yah!” Sera shouted, pointing a finger at Cullen.

Dorian made a face at her. “ _Boo-yah?_?”

Sera flipped him off and Dorian felt he had lost the plot entirely. These people were insane.

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long exhale. 

“Alright, Curly, you know what?” Varric said, apparently taking pity on the man. “We’ll go easy on you. Call it a truce. See you at the game, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah…” Cullen did not look convinced at this show of good faith, but he sent another look Dorian’s way. “Dorian, are you going?”

Dorian was considering changing his tune and saying yes, when Varric turned and looked at him, mischievous as ever.

“Nah, he said he’s sitting this one out,” Varric replied, fixing Dorian with a big, shit-eating grin. “Right, Dorian?”

“Um…” Dorian frowned at Varric, then nodded to Cullen. “Yeah, no. Not really my scene.”

“Um, okay.” Cullen made an awkward hand motion (maybe a wave?) and ducked his head as he stepped away from the door. “Cool. Yeah. So. See you guys later, then.”

Varric was _grinning_ and so was Sera, her eyes flicking back and forth between Cullen and Dorian. 

“Bye, Cullen.” Varric sing-songed, then shut the door and rounded on Dorian.

“Dude.” Was all he said. 

“ _Dude_ ,” Sera emphasized.

“Dude yourself,” Dorian muttered, crossing his arms. “You’re going to be late for the game if you don’t hurry up.”

He had no idea what time the game even was.

* * *

Dorian had resigned himself to an evening in his dorm room as he left Varric and Sera and headed down the hall. He had several readings to catch up on -- gag -- and a couple of assignments due the next day. 

He swung open the door to his room and let out a small sigh at the fact that, unsurprisingly, Solas was there. Solas was draped across his bed, wearing a pair of Beats headphones, and completely unaware of Dorian’s presence for a few blissful seconds. 

Dorian pulled out his philosophy textbook and took a seat at his desk, hoping maybe Solas would never notice he was there. But when did he ever get that lucky?

Solas pulled off his headphones and sat up. “Greetings,” he said.

Dorian glared at him. “Hey," he replied, noncommittally, then turned back to his textbook, flipping it open to a random page. 

“If you don’t have plans this evening,” Solas said, for some reason, “I was gonna pop a couple adderall and listen to The Smiths on vinyl. If you want to join.”

Dorian looked back at him to see if he was being serious. 

He was. 

It was the way he said it like it made him the most interesting man in the world that was most infuriating. Dorian thought he might pop a blood vessel. 

“Actually,” he found himself saying, “I’m going to the rugby game tonight.”

Solas visibly scowled, looking like he’d just smelled something foul. “Suit yourself, then.”

Dorian said nothing and stood to leave, unable to stand his roommate's presence for a moment longer. 

“I find it to be a crude and tasteless form of entertainment,” Solas commented, apropos of nothing.

“Yes, alright,” Dorian hissed, through gritted teeth, as he grabbed his coat and stormed out the door. 

_How’s that for a motivating operation?_ he thought to himself, bitterly. Solas had just dramatically increased the value of escaping that room.

**Author's Note:**

> listen i know this game came out 6 years ago. i know. I KNOW. but i simply love them your honor and what else am i supposed to do in these covid times??
> 
> thx to my roommate for helping me come up with this garbage bad idea and laughing really hard at my writing. also thx to my roommate's friend for reading it and validating my trash. xoxo gossip girl.


End file.
